


bite your tongue (or maybe bite mine)

by highfalutin baby birb (fevered_dreams)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Truth Serum, Truth Spells, a little hokey, and tim decides maybe he doesn't mind so much, jason aggressively compliments tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 05:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19311538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fevered_dreams/pseuds/highfalutin%20baby%20birb
Summary: Poison Ivy’s finally developed a truth pollen. Or, she comes up with something like it. Too bad  no one tells her anything useful.Instead, Jason’s stuck on Tim. More specifically, he can’t seem to stop talking about how pretty Tim is with those long, perfect lashes framing his beautiful eyes. To make matters worse, Ivy never bothered to make a cure. Sadly, crime doesn’t stop for a man who’s been forced to reveal his big, fat, embarrassing crush.How fucking typical.





	bite your tongue (or maybe bite mine)

**Author's Note:**

> i felt like i needed to get out at least one complete jaytim story, so i cranked this hokey story out LOL
> 
> but i hope you enjoy it!!
> 
> special thanks to [strawberryjei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryjei) for helping me out by beta reading this story!

Jason has not seen Tim in almost three weeks.

Actually, that’s not true. Even though he hasn’t seen Tim Drake in almost three weeks, he has caught sight of Red Robin streaking across the Gotham skyline to watch over his ever-expanding patrol routes.

As a result, Jason sometimes spots him careening over Chinatown, just in time to help stop the Falcone’s from encroaching even further across Gotham. Other times, he hovers over Crime Alley, striking a much more impressive picture with his new costume. Because, first of all, old Red Robin cowl never exactly inspired fear and awe like Batman’s, and, secondly, Jason really appreciates the way the new domino makes him look.

Something about the way it lets Tim’s hair flow freely in the night just really overwhelms the criminals, from what Jason can tell. It might be the luster of his strands, or the way his new, longer style frames his pretty little face. Either way, Jason has noticed criminals stopping in their dastardly tracks just to stare at Tim on more than one occasion. Which, quite frankly, Jason relates to on a visceral level.

Unfortunately, not all thugs and crime lords fall victim to long, luscious locks so easily. More often than not, Jason will jump in to help, driven by the pure kindness of his heart… and the utter disdain of being chewed out by Bruce for letting untoward harm come to one of his precious kids.

Like that, fighting together, Red Hood and Red Robin are something like allies, but not quite friends. Not in the way Dick seems to hope for every time Jason even mentions Tim. Most definitely not in the way Bruce begrudgingly claps his hand on the back of the shoulder as Tim meanders through the Batcave in Jason’s periphery, bleary-eyed and in desperate need of real sleep.

Though, Jason did send Tim to bed once, to everyone’s immense pleasure. The poor guy clearly needed it, but, apparently, everyone else refused to simply manhandle him into his bedroom like they should have. Honestly, Jason wasn’t sure why; Tim hardly weighs more than a wisp of fog, despite the lean muscle covering his body like a lonely lover. So, it’s not difficult to sling him over a highly-trained shoulder. Not to mention, a sleep-deprived young man tends to lay nice and limp in one’s arms.

“You don’t need to carry me to bed. I can get there myself,” Tim had argued. Though, the slur behind his words and sleepy flutter of his dark eyelashes didn’t inspire much confidence.

“Just roll with it. It’s not like I’m gonna hurt you.”

Tim scoffed with all air and plenty of teeth. “Oh yeah? You forget about that one time you nearly stabbed me to death?”

“Come on, Timmy. You’re no liar. Don’t start being one now. You know I never did such a thing.” Jason glanced down with a nasty smirk. “I only stabbed you once. The loss of blood is what almost killed you before you decided to play dead.”

“Asshole,” Tim had replied, expression fraught with a smile Jason had never seen from him before.

He wondered if Tim smiled like that often. At the very least, he rarely gifted Jason such sweet, fizzy smiles.

Because they are not friends.

Such terms and affects are far too complicated for them.

For Jason.

Even if he also finds Tim’s longer hairstyle quite distracting. Not to mention, Tim’s really grown into himself now that he’s past the uninspired part of puberty. Back then, when Jason first discovered Tim — The Pretender — he had scoffed at the awkward, fully teenage facade Tim wore. Too young for this work, Jason thought, and most certainly too pampered, with his blemish-free skin and infuriatingly straight grin.

For Tim had born with straight teeth, and of course the had plump, pink lips to match. That used to infuriate. However, Jason has recently become preoccupied smooth Tim’s lips perpetually seem to be — as if the concept of having chapped lips is wholly otherworldly to him.

Does he use flavored chapstick? Jason hopes so. He’s partial to cherry and vanilla, personally.

Either way, Jason bets kissing him would taste damn good.

And then he immediately and rather violently dropkicks that thought out of his mind before going about his regularly scheduled day, sans any lingering thoughts of Tim.

He tells himself he doesn’t have a burgeoning crush on _Tim Drake_ , of all people. Crushes aren’t exactly conducive after nearly stabbing someone to death, so a crush is out of the question.

And that’s the truth.

Probably.

(Fuck, who’s he trying to kid? Tim’s grown into a handsome, very fuckable young man, and Jason’s always been weak to these kinds of things.)

 

* * *

 

 

Nonetheless, Jason spares no time to stop and admire Red Robin as he soars through the air in a blur of red. Jason’s bike screech against the uneven pavement on the ground under him, struggling to catch up. Ivy’s gone and done it again, according to Oracle’s intel and Batman’s begrudging plea for help. Namely, Jason’s help because the vicious crawl of greens, browns, and terrifyingly bright oranges over Robinson Park just keeps growing.

In his ear, Oracle curses under her breath upon seeing Ivy being dastardly after her stint with the Birds of Prey. Regardless, vines spread further at an alarming rate, and Jason quickly abandons his bike lest he get caught beneath the rough along with it.

“So, what’s the plan?” Jason calls out when he finally catches up to Batman and Nightwing skulking around the edges of the park. Robin, on the other hand, flits about here and there with little regard for proper planning or well-thought-out strategy, slashing away recklessly at ever-expanding and increasingly-curious plant tendrils.

“Well, first of all, I think you should stop hacking away at those vines like that. We have no idea what those things might secrete after being threatened or damaged, _Robin._ ”

Jason looks up. Here comes Red Robin sweeping down upon them, lean frame illuminated by the swoon of the moon behind him. While set alight, Tim’s nice, luscious, and soft hair floats lovingly in the smoke-filled Gotham breeze with a capricious wave, and —

“Hood! Are you listening?”

Jason blinks and finds himself, once again, infinitely grateful for his signature red helmet. Gaudy it may be, but it works wonders when hiding his clumsy expression from the set of white eyes glaring in his direction.

“Sorry, got a bit bored with all the mumbo jumbo you guys were spouting off. Repeat what you said, but without all the unnecessary details, yeah?” he says smoothly.

Damian frowns even harder. If he keeps it up, his face’ll get stuck. Honestly, that’d be pretty damn funny. Just one more thing to make him like his daddy dearest.

“I said,” Batman begins impatiently, “that we should isolate Ivy as quickly as possible while avoiding whatever she’s concocted this time. We don’t know what these new plants are capable of, even with the gas masks. Approach her in teams to avoid any potential mishaps.”

“Agreed. Ivy hasn’t made any attempts to approach us herself, so I’m thinking she either has a nasty surprise for us deeper in, or she _can’t_ come meet us. Maybe she needs to stay in a specific spot to control her plants?” Tim suggests.

“Anything’s possible. The most important thing right now is to remain vigilant, especially for each other.” Bruce glares at Damian and Jason extra hard for emphasis.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Don’t go in with gun’s blazing, and make sure no child gets left behind,” Jason says. “You might think I’m an out-of-control piece of shit, but I’m not dumb, you know.”

“Of course not.”

Bruce nods, satisfied.

In the end, things go ass up regardless.

Jason likes to think that none of what happens next is his fault. After all, how could he anticipate Damian dropping from the sky like a damn suicide bomber, swords at the ready to swipe away at Poison Ivy despite everyone’s harsh warnings against doing exactly that? If any of them could be considered vindictively stubborn, Jason would cast a strong bet on Damian.

Thankfully, Dick ends up apprehending Ivy at the last second, narrowly avoiding Damian’s haphazard kamikaze attempt at whatever. Too bad that doesn’t stop her from releasing one last burst of an unknown gas.

Jason, of course, gets caught right in the middle of it. His helmet’s affixed tightly over his head, but he belatedly realizes how the spray of some mystery chemical over his barely-exposed wrists leave much to be desired after it starts to burn.

“Hood? Are you alright?” Tim asks. He maintains a healthy distance, like the crazy intelligent, unfairly pretty guy he is. Jason knows rationally that he, too, should start busting his ass to keep the distance. They have no idea that Ivy might have done to him, and a hefty dose of careful containment mixed with caution works wonders in these situations.

Jason knows that. Because he’s not dumb, and he stands by that quite adamantly. Except, even when equipped with all that wonderful insight, he can’t seem to stop himself from stepping towards Tim and his tight, juicy ass.

“Hood? Respond if you can,” Tim says slowly, slowly backing away. Smart. Tim’s always been smart. So wonderfully smart, to the point that Jason used to him with a terrifying ferocity before he decided that, perhaps, it might behoove him to be impressed instead.

From the corner of his eye, Jason spots Batman and Nightwing slowly flanking him. Robin stands to the side, petulant as ever but just as vigilant.

Tim was never like a brat like that. Tim had always been a good boy, even when Jason has been so mean to him.

He’d probably be good in bed, too.

“Hood, if you don’t say something in the next thirty seconds, I’m knocking you out and putting you in solitary confinement until I know exactly what’s going on,” Batman warns lowly.

“It’s no use,” Ivy cuts in suddenly, looking down at them with a haughty sneer. “He’s under my control now. With the truth pollen I’ve devised, he’ll finally tell me everything I want to know. Let’s start with this one: who is Batman?”

Nightwing’s slow today. He doesn’t cover her mouth in time to stop her before she has the chance to get the question out. Still, the rest of her speech was kinda useful, even if strangely incomprehensible to Jason.

“Who the fuck cares who Batman is?” Jason asks, and his throat croaks rebelliously upon being used for something besides praising Tim. “He’s just some creep running around in a hideous bat suit. There’s really not much to it, and that’s the truth.”

Ivy scowls. Nightwing chuckles, and Tim relaxes.

Jason likes the way Tim looks when he’s relaxes. It’s just a shame he can’t see the look in Tim’s eyes right now.

So, he says as much. “You know Red, I really like your new look. I think it suits you, especially now that your old cowl is gone. Now I get to see more of your cute little face on a regular basis, and that’s a damn gift to us all.”

Tim stills, all tensed up again, and Jason most certainly doesn’t like that.

“Did I say something wrong? If you don’t like being called cute, I can quite honestly say that you are also very, very handsome and masculine in your own, fresh-faced way,” Jason says. He goes through a series of arduous trials in the depths of his own mind to keep the tone of his voice soft and unassuming, lest he accidentally spook Tim. After all, Tim looks very much the frightened kitten right now. As endearing as that may be, Jason much prefers a lax Tim with a lazy smile painted on his face to the hesitant one in front of him.

Tim just gapes in response. To his side, Dick mirrors his expression spectacularly while Poison Ivy watches on with puzzled amusement. Even Damian expresses all the shock a little demon boy could possibly muster. Batman, on the other hand remains as stone-faced as ever, barely trussed up with the hint of a frown pinching at his ever-growing wrinkles.

“Hood, that’s enough,” Batman says, and his tone screams ‘not to be negotiated with.’

Too bad Jason rarely ever listened when he got into these moods of his.

“I don’t think I was talking to you,” Jason snaps before turning his attention back to Tim. “Do you like being called cute or handsome more?”

“I — I haven’t decided yet,” Tim clips awkwardly. “Hood, are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fine. Would be even better if you’d agree to have a drink with me,” Jason says, dipping his voice down smooth and low. Batman scowls even harder at that. “Non-alcoholic, of course.”

“What did you do to him?” Bruce demands, whipping his head over to glare at Poison Ivy.

She shrugs, notably nonchalant about the whole scene playing out before her like a straight-to-DVD rom-com. “Sorry, looks like I accidentally did it again. It’s hard, you know, coming up with new formulas. Trial and error. Mostly error, but at least I was kinda close this time.”

“Close to what?” Bruce asks. He all but foams at the mouth as he glares daggers at Ivy, but all Jason cares about is sneaking past him so he can sweep Tim off his feet — physically and metaphorically.

“Come on, Red, how about we leave the raving lunatic in a bat suit to deal with this mess while we go out and get a meal. I know a great Indian place nearby. Or we can do Japanese, if you prefer,” Jason whispers, voice dripping with every ounce of seduction he can manage.

“You guys are not going anywhere,” Dick cuts in. “Unless you take me with you.”

“Don’t be a cock block,” Jason hisses.

“Enough!” Bruce, the ultimate cock block, roars. “All five of us are leaving _together_ after the authorities take Poison Ivy away.”

“Too bad, Hood,” Damian sneers. “No fun for you tonight, it seems, though I cannot fathom how you think going on a date with _Red Robin_ could possibly be entertaining.”

“Well, at least someone’s still insulting me like usual.”

 

* * *

 

“Poison Ivy described Jason’s affliction as induced by a truth pollen that specifically reacts to one’s… romantic and sexual interests,” Bruce explains, and he’s definitely not pleased to be the one to say it.

“And you believe her?” Damian asks.

“It’s hard not to.” Bruce slides his gaze over to Jason, and they all follow suit. Which also means they also turn to look at Tim because Jason refuses to leave his side for long.

Tim flinches away from their stares against his own volition, only to take an odd brand of comfort in the warmth Jason emanates from where he sits conspicuously close. At the very least, he’s not also giving Tim a pitying stink eye.

“How long is it supposed to last?” Tim asks.

“She doesn’t know exactly how long the effects will last, but she claimed that Jason’s body will eventually cleanse itself of the toxins, if given enough time.” Bruce sighs. “If Jason’s not better within a week, then we’ll make preparations to develop an antidote. For now, we’ll just wait. Hopefully we’ll be able to harvest antibodies from him soon enough.”

“A week is a long time,” Dick says.

“Could be worse,” Tim says.

Because it’s true. There are worse fates than having Jason fawning over him, even if it’s a bit… overwhelming.

“See, Tim, your face is way too nice to cover up with that nasty condom-cowl you liked so much. I mean, it might be a bit dangerous for you to run around, flashing that gorgeous face of yours to criminals who likely want nothing more than to snatch you up for themselves, but still. _I_ enjoy it,” Jason rambles, eyes bleary, but shockingly focused on their task of roving across Tim’s face. They make at least one stop at each feature, and Tim nearly trembles under the scrutiny. He can’t remember Jason ever looking at him so intently. It’s weird — but not entirely unwelcome.

To be honest, Tim knew long before tonight that Jason, for a lack of a better word, was _interested_ in him. First of all, Tim’s not dumb or oblivious, despite what Dick would like to think whenever he sneaks Wally into the manor for his regular bouts of semi-public sex. Secondly, Jason never made much effort to hide his feelings. After all, he hasn’t been exactly stingy with the flirting these past few months.

At the same time, never has Jason actually propositioned Tim before. Tim figured Jason either wanted to ‘take it slow’, or he was never genuinely interested in pursuing anything concrete.

Which was fine. Really. Physical attraction doesn’t always have to lead to a relationship. Tim knows that intimately well, what with his weird fantasies involving Hal Jordan even though he would never, ever do anything with Hal Jordan of all people.

Jason, on the other hand, is a solid maybe.

“You know, Tim, I haven’t seen you up close in some time. It took me awhile to notice it, but you’ve really started to fill out really nicely,” Jason hums, gazing up at Tim with a positively goofy grin. “I mean, sorry to be crude because I know you’re a classy guy, but your ass looks _great_. Very firm. Have you been doing squats lately?”

“I guess I have. It pays to maintain one’s physical fitness as a vigilante, you know,” Tim responds, so easily he surprises even himself.

“Oh, of course. Wouldn’t do any of us good to have you get plucked off the street because you didn’t train enough. Just want to let you know, I’m always down to help you with that — check out your form and stuff.” Jason finishes it off with a wink, and, honestly, not even Bruce breathing down his back with those beady eyes of his could stop the laugh that escapes Tim’s lips. It sounds ugly, choked off by its own suddenness. Despite that, Jason smiles like he just witnessed all his dreams come true in the most marvelous way possibly.

Which is nice. Really nice.

Nonetheless, Tim finds it weird, sitting here listening to Jason spout off a litany of sweet words when he’s been coerced to do so by bio-engineered plants. It feels wrong — invasive, actually — but Jason will just not shut up.

The whole night, he continues to swaddle Tim in compliments despite the great pains Tim puts himself through to try to get him to stop. He tries slightly illegal night-time teas and a generous serving of vodka mixed in with the hot chocolate Jason demands, but none of it deters him in the slightest.

“Or, instead of you watching me trying to come up with a stupid excuse to hang out with you, we can just go on a real date,” Jason continues after he finishes sipping away at his hot chocolate. His cheeks are flushed now, thanks to Tim and the vodka, and wow, he looks ridiculously cute like that.

Near one of the consoles, Dick watches them with an eyebrow raised and lips upturned, but says nothing. He doesn’t even tattle on Tim for slipping Jason alcohol while he’s drugged to high heaven, which is much appreciated. However, he also makes no effort to help Tim out, which is not-so-nice but very Dick.

“Ask me again when you’re not under the influence of Ivy’s most recent experiment,” Tim responds.

“You know I will. This is how I really feel, Baby Bird.”

Tim swallows down a rush of emotions at the nickname. They come and go quickly, leaving him no time to discern any of them, but, shit, do they burn.

Because Jason has never called Tim Baby Bird before. He once referred to Tim as Little Wing during one of their rare cooperative efforts. Before that, he liked to refer to Tim by all kinds of names such as ‘The Imposter’, ‘Pretender’, and even ‘the one who got it all’.

None of those come close to what Baby Bird does.

Clearly, Jason knows just how to push Tim’s buttons, and he doesn’t even have to try. All he needs to do, apparently, is be honest.

Still, Tim shakes his head, and the edges of his smile feel stiff and unrepentant. “Save it for later. If you still feel the same way, that is.”

“And then will you finally give me an answer?” Jason asks.

“We’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

 

Three days pass. Jason continues to follow Tim around like recently weaned but still needy pup who refuses to stop clinging onto his mother. Except, instead of begging for food, Jason keeps accosting Tim with questions and invitations.

“You know, I think you have some of the longest eyelashes I have ever seen on a person. Did you get extensions or something?” Jason asks across the dining room table.

Tim nearly chokes on his cereal. Cinnamon Toast Crunch, he discovers, doesn’t taste nearly as good coming up one’s trachea as it does on the tongue. “You really think I have the time to get eyelash extensions?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s part of your shtick as the hip, young, and devastatingly attractive employee of Wayne Enterprises.” Jason plops another piece of French toast in his mouth before licking his lips in a way he presumably means to look sexy. “I’d think batting your lashes at shareholders and board members to get your way would be a really effective strategy. I mean, you’re already distracting enough just by sitting there eating breakfast. I can only imagine what you look like dressed up in a suit, looking impressive and arguing about graphs or whatever the fuck you do in those meetings.”

“I’d rather not think about the Wayne Enterprise board members falling for my imagined seduction tactics, thank you very much. They’re not exactly the type I’d like to go around seducing, you know.”

“You’re right. Someone as pretty and talented as you deserves the best,” Jason hums.

“And you think you’re the best?” Tim asks, and he intends for the question to be nothing more than a playful tease reserved for a special moment in time when he can afford to tease like this.

However, Jason expression falls so fast Tim can practically feel it. But, oh no, someone as self-assured and handsome as Jason should never look that heart-renderingly crestfallen.

“I know,” Jason whispers, even though he doesn’t. He doesn’t know how shitty Tim feels right now, watching him idly play with the remnants of his breakfast with a frown on his face. “I know you can do much better than me. That you _should_ do better than me, but I can’t help it. You’re just… really great.”

“Jason, I think you are grossly overestimating me.”

Jason shakes his head, and he is nothing if not adamant. “No. You’re way too nice and modest for your own good. But maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I did that to you, all those years ago.”

“Jason — “

“I’m sorry about it,” Jason interrupts. “About nearly killing you and acting like you were never meant to be Robin. I was wrong. If you don’t believe anything else I’ve said, then at least believe that.”

For a moment, Tim considers arguing. He considers opening his big, fat mouth — the same one Jason has complimented over seven times since Ivy got to him — to reassure Jason that he has nothing to apologize for because Tim gets it. He understands that a forced revival probably doesn’t leave a person feeling particularly happy or optimistic. He definitely understands how it feels to be replaced.

To be completely honest, Tim still hasn’t completely forgiven Dick for taking Robin away from him.

So, he bears no real grudge. Not anymore, at least. Time may not heal everything, but it least it makes things like personal insults and old scars hurt less.

He nearly says all that — in fewer and prettier words, of course. However, Jason stares up at him with eyes that are just way too damn big and _blue_ , and Tim can’t find the words to say any of that.

So, he blinks back the shame and instead says, “I believe you. Promise.”

Jason’s smile almost makes this blatant invasion of privacy worth it.

 

* * *

 

Jason tries to give Tim some space. He really does. At the very least, he avoids following Tim on his daily escapades outside the manor because he knows for a fact that doing otherwise would royally piss Tim off, and pissing Tim off is the last thing his unfiltered, smitten self wants to do. He still wants that date — or two, or more — after all. Regardless, he finds himself ambling around the Batcave at increasingly regular intervals to catch sight of Tim down there.

Today, Tim’s already there when Jason sneaks down. He’s sat in front of the massive computers he long-since claimed for himself, typing away furiously. Silently, Jason peers over his shoulders to see a litany of numbers and letters that, to his understanding, don’t make any sense.

He inches forward, stepping down loudly so Tim can hear him coming. Tim doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he inclines his head ever-so-slightly to the side, inviting Jason closer with the stretch of his neck.

“What’cha doing over there, Pretty Bird? Shouldn’t you be asleep? I know you like to play to part of martyr genius, but, to be honest, you look like shit right now.” Jason says.

“So I’m Pretty Bird now, even when I, as you say, look like shit?”

“I can stop calling you that if you don’t like it. Also, I’m just trying to help you not get yourself killed from overworking. I see the way you move during patrols when you clearly haven’t gotten enough sleep. You’re not gonna last much longer if you keep this up.”

“I appreciate your concern. If only the rest of Gotham felt the same way,” Tim says smoothly. He pops a handful of chips into his mouth, and the greasy residue that lingers on his lips is patently unfair. “Anyway, I’m trying to hack into the Bertinelli’s communication lines. Word on the street says they’re trying to build ties with a larger family in New York, so I’m trying to intercept their messages before they can.”

“God, you’re so fucking brilliant. I’d hate that about you if it didn’t just make you all the more attractive,” Jason breathes, awe-struck and just a little turned on.

Tim grins at him through his reflection in the computer screen. “Why, thank you.”

“I could help you with the Bertinelli’s, if you’d like,” Jason adds.

This time, Tim frowns. “I do not want you killing mobsters on my behalf.”

“It’d make your like a whole lot easier.”

“And a whole lot more dubious.”

“I’m just saying. I don’t want the Five Families on your ass. Even supervillains have more compassion than those guys.”

“You act like I haven’t lived in Gotham my whole life,” Tim says. “Besides, I already got them.”

He finishes typing, and the whole screen erupts into a flood of messages, ranging from sources such as iMessage, carefully-encrypted emails, phone call recordings, and even a few Grindr DM’s. In a single, fluid motion, Tim swivels in his chair, and now that devious smile of his points directly up at Jason.

Jason loves it.

“That’s so hot. _You’re_ so hot. I wish I could make out with you right now over this desk,” Jason blurts out.

Tim face stills, and he blinks owlishly at Jason.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” Jason hastily amends.

Then, Tim laughs. It sounds so pretty, like the lullaby Jason’s mom used to sing him when she was sober enough to remember it, and the flash of his white teeth hs pairs with it is blinding.

“Who knew you had such a way with words?” Tim teases.

“Hey, I can quote Shakespeare sonnets at you right now, if that’s what you prefer.”

“Shakespeare’s overrated,” Tim says with a flip of his fringe.

“Tell me whose poem’s you prefer, and I’ll memorize them all. You just have to say the word.”

Tim tilts his again, this time to the other side, and Jason both revels in and rues how good the flex of his neck looks. “You really are the dedicated type, huh?”

“I just want to impress you,” Jason confesses.

“Keep that up and I might just believe you,” Tim hums.

Jason feels his forehead crease in time with his frown. “Ok, as turned on as I am after watching you single-handedly thwart the Bertinelli’s latest plans for expansion, I must admit that I don’t appreciate you constantly dismissing me like that.”

Tim shakes his head with a wry smile. “I know. Sorry. But I can’t help it. It’s hard to take what you say at face value, considering everything we’ve been through.”

“What’s it gonna take to get you to believe me, if truth serum won’t cut it?” Jason asks quietly.

Tim gives him a sad smile. “I’m not sure to be honest. Time, I guess.”

Jason sighs. “Time heals all, huh?”

“At the very least, it tries to.”

“Isn’t that the truth?”

 

* * *

 

Jason slips into the Batcave again the following evening, only to stumble upon the sight of Tim changing into his outfit, and _wow_. Apparently, their Little Bird’s not so little anymore; not only have his shoulders broadened over the past few years, his overall muscle definition has improved immensely. Not to mention, that happy trail of his looks so good it should be illegal.

However, even with all the blood rushing to his dick, Jason still has enough sense in his drugged-up mind to ask, “Where are you going?”

“On patrol. I haven’t been out for a few days, on account of your… predicament, but we need all the hands we can get today. Apparently, Killer Croc and Clayface broke out of Arkham,” Tim explains, slipping on the rest of his suit and, unfortunately, hiding away a particularly mouth-watering sliver of skin with it.

“Again?”

Tim shrugs. “It’s Gotham. You know how it is.”

“Let me help. You know we work well together. We’ll be done with him in record time,” Jason says. Without even waiting for Tim’s response, he already begins stalking away to scour the corners of the Batcave for the suit and weapons Bruce confiscated.

“You know you can’t. Not until this truth serum plant toxin is out of your system,” Tim argues, sprinting over to stop Jason.

“What if you get hurt?”

“I’ll be fine. Everyone else is already out there to back me up,” Tim says.

“Like I trust any of them to not let you get killed,” Jason hisses.

“Well, I think it’d be an insult to you if I didn’t concede half a point to you on that, but please just trust us on this,” Tim implores. “Trust me?” He even plays dirty at the very end, lowering his voice into a soothing murmur that sends shivers down Jason’s spine all the way to his cock, long eyelashes a flutter and mouth pursed into a tiny pout.

Jason folds like a dying man on his last leg.

“Fine. But you have to keep in contact with me the whole time. If anything happens, I’m coming over, and not even those adorable puppy-dog eyes of yours can stop me,” Jason grumbles.

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” Tim says, triumphant grin in place of his previous pout, “but you got it. Knowing you, you’ll find a way to keep tabs on us no matter what I say.”

“Damn right. Now, go out there and save the day with your tight kevlar and gorgeous ass just like I would.”

“I’ll try. Minus the killing, of course.”

“Unfortunate, but not unexpected.”

Against his higher reasoning and volition, Tim grins at that. “Have I disappointed you?”

“Never,” Jason answers quickly, sincerity bleeding into the exhale accompanying it. “You could never disappoint me.”

And, if Tim’s heart flutters so hard he nearly has a conniption at the sound of that… Well, no one else has to know.

 

* * *

 

Stuff happens. To be more specific, a lot of stuff happens.

The fight starts out innocuous enough; usually, Clayface and Killer Croc present less of a danger and more of a general nuisance around Gotham. Except, today, someone must be helping them out because those debilitating stun gun-esque weapons they carry are definitely not of their own design.

Damian goes down first. He charges in like usual spurred on by a mix of recklessness, pride, and a burning desire to prove himself in front of Batman, and he does quite well for himself in the beginning. Within a few flips and swipes of his sword, he has Killer Croc backed into a corner, and all seems to be going swimmingly well.

“Croc’s almost out already,” Tim whispers into his comm. “You really didn’t have anything to worry about.”

Jason huffs directly into the speaker with what sounds like his entire lung capacity, nearly blowing Tim’s ear off in the process. “The whole fight would be over if I were there.”

“Someone’s getting cocky.”

“I only speak the truth, and you know that.”

Tim laughs. “I guess I can’t argue with you about that now.”

But then everything goes to absolute shit.

Damian gets hit by something. His entire body convulses, and Dick, like the wild, sentimental, and hot-blooded guy he is, leaps into action to help him without looking both ways. Then he, too, gets hit, and it only gets worse from there.

“Goddammit Nightwing,” Tim hisses under his breath as he sprints away from the scene because now the Joker’s here, and one of them needs to go and devise a plan. Batman stays behind to distract them while Batwoman and Batwing work to secure Robin and Nightwing back to safety — leaving Tim with the hard work.

“Red? What’s wrong?” Jason asks. “Red!”

“Just an unexpected guest,” Tim says as he rounds the corner before making his way up one of the taller buildings in the area.

“Where are you? I’m coming over right now.”

“Hood, please —”

“We had an agreement,” Jason growls.

Tim reaches the top. From here, he has a clear view of the new threat they’re facing, but that doesn’t really mean much, at the end of the day. “Doesn’t mean I have to hold up my end of the bargain.”

“You want me to run around the whole city in a hell-bent frenzy while I look for you? Because I will, if you don’t tell me where you are right now,” Jason says, and he says it with promise.

Tim snarls to himself in reluctant resignation before responding. “God, you’re like a fucking dog who won’t stop guarding his food bowl.”

“Sorry Baby Bird, it’s just how I get when the cutest guy I know refuses to see reason despite being the smartest of us all.”

“Thanks for the backhanded compliment,” Tim responds, tone sandpaper dry. Jason doesn’t even react. “I’m near Park Row, by the way. Check the tallest buildings in the area, and you should find me.”

Rustling floods the comm. Presumably, Jason’s changing into the suit he probably spent the past few hours searching for. “I trust you’ll stay put until I get there?”

“If nothing major happens.”

“Stay. Put,” Jason orders. His words come straight from the throat, eternally guttural, and, as much as Tim hates to admit it, the sound of those two little words gets him _bad_.

So much so that he cannot physically stop himself from one last quip. “Keep that kind of energy going for something more fun and I might be more inclined to listen.”

The noise on Jason’s end stops. Then, all Tim hears is Jason’s breathing, a little haggard and so, so close.

“Shit, you really are a little tease,” Jason murmurs, and he sounds hot. “Tell me you’re not just playing with me while I’m still under the influence.”

“Well, either way, I think we’re gonna have to have _a talk_ about all this once you’ve finally purged all of this out of your system.”

“God, I hate talks.” Jason sighs. “But I guess you’re right.”

“Great. Some more communication would do this whole team good, to be honest.”

“Too bad we’re shit at it.”

“Now that’s an understatement.”

 

* * *

 

Jason leaves the cave three minutes later. Within another eight he finally stumbles upon Tim, perched atop a run-down apartment complex. He stands alone and extremely anxious, if the harsh line of his tense shoulders means anything.

“How’s it looking now?” Jason asks.

“Not great but also not terrible. Batwoman and Batwing managed to get an incapacitated Robin and Nightwing away from the worst of it. Unfortunately, Batwing got injured as a result, so Batwoman has her hands full with all three of them. Batman followed Clayface, Killer Croc, and the Joker into the sewers by himself a few minutes ago.” Tim worries away at his lip afterwards. Honestly, he looks damn good like that, but now’s not the time for that, despite the compulsion driving at Jason to take note of it.

Maybe Ivy’s truth pollen has finally begun to wear off.

Then, Jason’s brain comes to a screeching halt. Tim mentioned the Joker just now.

The Joker wasn’t part of this before.

“He’s here too?” Jason asks quietly.

Tim catches on without an explanation. What a smart guy. Jason would be impressed if he weren’t brimming with rage.

“He showed up later, once Robin and Nightwing were already down,” Tim explains, slow and steady, as if trying to calm a frightened beast. “I left soon after that, on Batman’s instruction.”

“Well, at least B finally did something right by not letting you get close to that freak.”

“But we have to go and help him soon,” Tim says. “Any ideas? All I can think of is you storming down there, guns blazing as you’re want to do, while I sneak around behind you to try to disrupt this new weapon he’s got.”

Jason snarls so hard his face feels like a contortionist’s dream. “You’re not going anywhere. _I’m_ gonna go in, by myself, so I can finally give that freak what’s comin’ to him.”

“You know I can’t let you do that.”

“You know,” Jason mimics derisively, “you may be cute, but you’re in no position to be telling me what to do.”

“Can we not argue about this right now? We have much more pressing matters to attend to.”

“I’m not the one who’s arguing.”

Tim’s plump, pink lips turn dangerously thin. He’s unhappy, for sure, but Jason would rather him be pissy and safe than pissy and terrified of Jason after watching him beat the Joker to death.

Except, before Jason can go ahead and do any of that, Tim stands up before sprinting off the ceiling into an absolutely breathtaking leap. He grapples onto the side of a nearby building before gliding onto the streets and running towards a nearby manhole — supposedly the same one Batman went through.

Once his shock wears off, Jason follows with an aggrieved shout and an erection that, hopefully, dies down before they come face-to-face with Batman again.

“That was stupid of you” Jason reprimands once he catches up to Tim in one of Gotham’s sprawling sewage tunnels.

Tim throws a glance behind his shoulder that exudes pure dissatisfaction. “I wouldn’t have had to pull that stunt in the first place if you’d just been reasonable.”

“Reasonable,” Jason scoffs. “As if being reasonable means anything when it comes to the Joker.”

Tim gives him another curious look, but it’s much harder to gauge what he’s feeling now with the white lenses covering his eyes.

“Don’t do anything rash,” Tim says in a hushed whisper. Except, his voice echoes off the stone walls around them with a stinging tang nonetheless.

Jason remains silent for a spell before breathing in deep and never letting it go completely. He’s never been good at letting things go. “Listen to me, Red. I want you to steer clear of the fight that we both know is gonna happen. It’d kill me _and_ Batman if I accidentally hurt you.”

“Hood, you’re being —“

“I’m being serious,” Jason interrupts, insistent. “I thought you were supposed to be the Robin who followed orders the best.”

“I’m not Robin anymore.”

“No, you’re not. You’re better now. Smarter,” Jason says, partly fueled by the lingering compulsion, but mostly driven by his own truth. “So, be your lovely, smart self and stay out of the way.”

Tim frowns, and his brows furrow into a fierce point of contention. “If you’re really trying to get in my pants, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk down to me like that.”

“I’m not trying to get into your pants,” Jason refutes. “Not immediately, at least. First, I just want a nice, wholesome date.”

He can’t see it past the domino, but Jason would bet good money that Tim’s rolling his eyes at him beneath the lenses.

“Whatever you say,” Tim hums, and Jason thinks that, just maybe, he’s won for now.

 

* * *

 

Jason is a fucking idiot for believing that anything in his steaming hot mess of a life could ever be that easy.

It takes them a few minutes of walking to finally find Batman and the rest of the motley villain group of the week. Though, to be quite honest, Batman seems to be doing pretty well for himself; Clayface lays prone the ground, while Killer Croc is nowhere to be seen. Only the Joker remains standing, and Jason already has plans for him.

“Well, look who we have here,” the Joker taunts, in that disgusting screech of his. “The dead Robin and the soon-to-be-dead Robin. I haven’t been this excited since they announced they were going to start playing reruns of The Golden Girls in Arkham.”

Jason snarls hard. The Joker simply laughs.

“Red Robin, I’ve come to the conclusion that this new weapon the Joker’s been handing out is powered by an electrical current that acts as a variant of a perforant pathway stimulating charge, which thus induces seizures and a loss of consciousness,” Batman announces as soon as he spots them.

“You figured all that out just from beating them up?” Jason asks.

At that, Bruce just barely smiles. “No. I read it from the files.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard to deal with,” Tim says. “We just have to short-circuit it.”

The Joker interrupts them by swinging at them with what essentially looks to be a large electrical rod.

“Come now, it’s rude to ignore your host,” the Joker coos mockingly. “Maybe I should loosen you guys up a bit. Thankfully, I know just the thing for that.”

He scurries over to a small enclave before pushing a comically large and disturbingly red button that he, somehow, managed to install in the sewers. Which is definitely bad news. The steam of ominous gas filling the odd sewage-room moments later strikes Jason as even worse — Joker Venom, undoubtedly.

“Masks on!” Batman shouts before quickly getting his own gas mask on. Unfortunately, even that small moment gives the Joker enough time to get the jump on him with this new, seizure-inducing device of his. Honestly, Bruce has always been too open when teaming up with his Robin of the month. Jason thinks he should really work on maintaining his self-preservation skills in the face of a black-haired, blue-eyed boy, but they can talk about that later.

Because right now they all find themselves preoccupied by the Joker; he lunges, haphazard and confident with abandon. Batman recoils, but he moves sluggishly, too preoccupied with making sure Tim and Jason are safe to do better. So, the Joker gets him as Tim shouts out a belated word of warning.

The whole scene plays in front of Jason in slow motion, but the sight of Batman convulsing seems to pass by in a horrifying instant. In the end, Jason can’t even find the time to breathe before it’s all over. Fortunately, Tim has enough sense to dive down and drag Bruce to safety, even if doing so involves the rough scrape of gravel against Bruce’s cheek.

“Oh, poor Batsy. Guess even he can’t stop something like this,” the Joker hums, sauntering over toward Tim like a beast on the prowl. Within three long strides, Jason puts himself between the two, hyper aware of Tim’s breathing through his earpiece. He inhales unsteadily, but his exhale comes out strong. Good. Tim staying alive is good. Excellent, even.

“I bet you two will also be easy to take care of,” the Joker continues.

“You forget who you’re dealing with here,” Jason counters. “I’m not the one with the no-kill approach.”

“No, I guess not. You’re just the forgotten son. The one who couldn’t stand being left behind, so he crawled back up out of the ground only to throw a tantrum around Gotham when Daddy dearest wouldn’t take him back.”

Jason sees red, and every one of his muscles shrieks with the Pit. The green overtake the red, and, before he knows it, he’s going in for the kill, jugular and all.

Of course, the Joker takes it all in stride, side-stepping Jason’s attack with that fucking laugh of his. “Please, dead-Robin, I know you won’t do it. I know you won’t kill me,” he goads in a pleased lilt.

“Think again,” Jason growls. Everyone else is out of the way now, and Tim still breathing — _alive_. That means Jason’s free to charge towards the Joker without a care in the world, guns in hand. He shoots, but the Joker knows the twisting tunnels down here far better than Jason does. He twists and turns through left and right with an assured step, narrowly dodging all of Jason’s bullets because of course he does. Of course life’s never that easy.

Still, Jason’s always been a quick study. The Joker can’t run forever.

“Hood, stop it!” Tim calls out, following close after them. Desperation leaks into his voice at an alarming rate, but Jason can barely hear it past the roar of blood in the back of his head.

“Sorry Red, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do with his second chance at life!” Jason yells back, and his words bound off the walls with a mocking tang.

He closes in on the Joker.

“Oh, you poor thing. You’re so close to me and your little hodge-podge of a team. I wonder what they’ll think of you, if you do go through with shooting me to little bits,” the Joker sing-songs in-between his signature cackles.

Jason can’t come up with anything decent in return. “Shut the _fuck_ up!”

“Oh, come now, you used to be so much more creative back in the day, Hoodsy. Does dying really make a person so boring? I’m glad I’m not dying anytime soon then.”

Jason fires another handful of rounds in a renewed fit or rage. They spray haphazardly into the dark in front of him, but that doesn’t matter, as long as they get close. Close means he’s almost there.

Means the Joker’s almost dead.

“You’re gonna need to do better than that! Why don’t you come a bit closer, Hoodsy? That just might help your abysmal aim.”

In the back of his mind, Jason knows the Joker only says all that in a ploy to lure Jason closer so he can use the perfect pathway whatever on him. He knows that for an absolute fact because he’s not stupid, despite what people would love for him.

And yet, he barrels forward with abandon regardless, driven by the need for revenge and the lingering thought in the back of his head screaming, ‘don’t let him get close to Tim. For the love of God, don’t let Tim get hurt like you did.’

In the end, none of that matters.

The Joker pops out of a hidden indent in a nearby wall, electric club at the ready, stretched smile wicked and ready to give him another beating straight to death. Jason can even see those bright red numbers counting down against the back of his eyelids, cloying and pervasive, always in his dreams and forever-prominent in his waking hours too.

At the same time, Tim bursts into the scene from the corner of his eyes with nothing more than a damn batarang in his hand, silently counting down to who the fuck knows what. And, before Jason’s reflexes even have a chance to set in, Tim dives in front of him and takes the brunt of the blow.

He shrieks. His body shakes even harder then the tremble of Jason’s breath. Afterwards, he falls, and Jason finally gains enough sense to catch him before he hits the ground.

The batarang blinks at a maddening pace, now lodged within the charged beatstick. Then, it flashes, and ashy smoky fills the air around them as the Joker recoils at the force of it, stunned as he hits the ground with an echoing thud.

Jason also feels shocked and a touch overwhelmed, weighed down heavy by the feeling of Tim’s prone body in his arms. Tim’s heavier than he expected but still much lighter than Roy. He’s warmer, too, and even the cut of his jaw and slope of his cheekbones look nice beneath the dank lighting of the sewers.

He always looks good, really. It’s unfair.

Not to mention, it’s awfully unfair and infuriating of him to have played the part of the martyr even after Jason explicitly told him not to. They have many, many words to exchange once this entire fiasco is all said and done, but, for now, Jason’s too preoccupied with pilfering Tim’s utility belt for a handy-dandy sling-shot rope for that.

“You’re going back to Arkham where you belong, you disgusting piece of shit,” Jason growls once he has the Joker properly detained and secured.

“Just Arkham? Aren’t you thinking a little too narrowly now? What ever happened to killing me? To getting the _revenge_ I know you’ve been dreaming about?” the Joker purrs.

“I have more important things to deal with than you.” Jason presses Tim’s GCPD alert with only a hint of reluctance. “But next time’s gonna be a different story. I can promise you that.”

“Tell me that when you’re not cradling the not-dead-yet Robin in your arms like a forlorn lover,” the Joker whispers.

Jason kicks him so hard in the balls that the Joker finally drops the despicable smile in favor of a grimace and pained help. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll do worse than that love tap to your dick.”

The Joker forces a wide, toothy smile. “I look forward to it, dead-Robin.”

The sirens approach. Tim stirs ever-so-slightly in Jason’s arms. He looks down and frowns at the sight of Tim twitching in his seizure-induced sleep because, even like that, he strikes a beautiful image. How un-fucking-fair and absolutely Tim of him.

“Me too.”

 

* * *

 

Tim wakes up to the sight of IV lines and incessantly beeping monitors.

He glances to the right, only to catch sight of the cave’s smooth walls surrounded by Bruce’s signature consoles that are way too damn big for practicality’s sake, yet just big enough to invoke an odd sort of comfort.

Well, he figures it’s probably a good sign that he’s currently recovering in the cave instead of Dr. Thompkins’ private and carefully hidden office. After all, her lectures tend to hit much closer to home than Bruce’s. Apparently, medical school teaches a person what to say it make it really hurt.

“Well, look who’s finally awake now. You know, you really got me worried after that borderline-kamikaze stunt of yours.”

Tim slides his gaze to the left where Jason sits at his bedside, sporting an impressively pissed expression. If looks could kill… Well, Tim probably wouldn’t be dead, necessarily, but Jason’s glare might leave him playing pretend in a pool of his blood all over again.

“I wasn’t going to die from something like that,” Tim says.

“Oh yeah? What if the Joker got to you before I did? You think he’d let you off the hook just because you’d passed out?” Jason asks, and the corners of his mouth tighten up in quite the formidable sight with ferocity of his frown.

Honestly, it makes him look really good.

But that’s a thought for another time. “I knew you wouldn’t let him, and I couldn’t let you do it, either,” Tim says easily.

Jason flicks his head to the side with an impatient sigh, highlighting his neck along with it. “You’re gonna drive me crazy one of these days.”

“Speaking of people driving you crazy, how’s everyone else?”

“Fine. Duke and Kate recovered awhile ago. Dick and B are already up and being their usual, nosy selves, hovering over me like I’m about to either run out of here with my arm full of classified tech or suddenly burst into tears upon realizing all the horrors I’ve witnesses over the years.”

“Sounds about right,” Tim mutters.

“Damian’s still out, on account of being smaller, but he’s stable.”

“That’s good,” Tim says. “How’re you feeling?”

“Me? Fine. I didn’t get hit by anything, remember?”

“Yeah, but I mean, how’s the… truth pollen situation?”

“Oh. That’s already done with,” Jason says, so nonchalant Tim very nearly has an aneurysm.

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“Because you’re hideous, and your new hairstyle doesn’t suit you in the slightest.”

Tim gawks at him with all the affront of an inconvenienced preteen girl, and Jason just has to laugh at the sight.

“I know because I can finally lie to your face again,” Jason explains when he finally catches his breath.

“Oh, I don’t know. That could just be your true feelings.”

“You know it’s not,” Jason says. “Look, you were the one who said we needed to talk, right? So why don’t we just do it now before the demon brat wakes up and inevitably interrupts us?”

Tim bites his lip, eyes darting to the side before replying. “Alright, fine. I just —“ He pauses, seemingly at a loss for words. Jason bites down on his tongue hard to stop himself from butting in. “I just don’t know if not-drugged you really feels the same way as drugged you did.”

“Of course I do. It was a truth serum,” Jason answers.

“Yeah, but, I mean, just because you find someone attractive on principal doesn’t mean you actually want to do anything,” Tim says haltingly.

“But I do.”

Tim’s eyes snap up to Jason’s face, searching. Jason, however, gives him little to go by except for a barely-there smile and a surprisingly soft gaze.

Jason soldiers on before Tim can try to dig for more. “I do want to… explore the possibility with you. I never said anything before because I wanted to try and gauge your interest in me beforehand, but, now that the cat’s out of the bag, I don’t see any harm in asking now.”

Tim finally gives his lips a touch of reprieve. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”

“Hey, if you really don’t want to, it’s not a problem. I’m a big boy now. I can handle rejection.”

“I’m not rejecting you,” Tim whispers. Now he starts pawing away nervously at his bedsheets, to Jason’s apparent amusement, judging by the soft smirk on his face. “It’s just sudden, I guess. I want to make sure it’s for real.”

“Well, how about you go on a date with me to check?” Jason offers, and he flashes Tim a smile so devilishly handsome it should be grounds for landing someone in Arkham.

Well, maybe not Arkham. Somewhere more like Tim’s bed might be more apt.

So, Tim just responds with an amused huff. “Yeah, alright. You got me. Let’s do it.” Tentatively, he smiles back. “I’m actually in the mood for Thai, by the way.”

“Anything for you, Baby Bird.”

**Author's Note:**

> haha so there it is!! i actually kinda want to write a sequel where tim and jason have first date shenanigans... 
> 
> anyway, please tell me what you think about this story and a possible sequel!!
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